The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance by Alison Shaw Page B

the sleeping faces of his cousins rather than on their
Governess, who sat smiling to herself, her lusciously rosy lips
curving upwards as if she had a secret she was just dying to tell.
Blazes, it made him hard and he whipped his traitorous eyes from
her face once again and fixed them on Arthur whose head was in her
lap: just where he would like to be.
    Damn it! How
the hell had he got himself in this position? And then he felt a
small hand ease itself under the edge of his jacket and resting on
his thigh, it ever so slowly edged itself upwards until it
discovered his guilty secret straining the wool of his pants. He
heard Justine De Mornay give a little sigh and tensed as his cock
swelled to its full capacity under her questing fingers. Fuck and
damnation, if she didn’t stop he was going to embarrass himself
more than he had ever done in his entire debauched life.
    Keeping his
eyes fixed on William, who was slumped against the carriage wall,
his mouth open slightly and snoring, Rafe shifted and tried to
dislodge his mistress’s insistent hand. But the movement just meant
his hardness was pushed more firmly against her, and she gave him a
confident little squeeze. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from
moaning, and dared to flick his eyes slightly to the right where
Charlotte was still smiling enigmatically. A thumb brushed across
the sensitive tip of his cock and he was horribly aware of his pre
cum soaking into the wool of his pants as Charlotte’s eyes slid
downwards and to the left and looked directly at his crotch.
    “Well, we must
be almost there!” he said so loudly that both the women jumped and
Arthur twitched on Charlotte’s knee. “Wake the children, Miss
Kemp!”
    The remainder
of the journey was thankfully spent rousing two reluctant boys and
attempting to keep them in good cheer. When they finally reached
the end of the interminable driveway of the house they came to an
abrupt halt and all sat for a moment listening to the driving rain
and contemplating the single umbrella Rafe had in his
possession.
    “Justine, I
will take you to the house first and then come back for the boys,”
Rafe eventually decided and he flung the carriage door open and
leapt into the downpour, pulling his mistress with him. But it
seemed the boys were too eager to see their sister and father, and
they leapt after him and ran up the main stairs, not caring how wet
they were getting.
    Once he had
delivered Justine through the door, Rafe turned and realised that
Charlotte was still in the carriage, alone.
    She was sitting
patiently, her back straight, and her hands in her lap, like the
very picture of a proper little governess. Rafe took one look at
her and dropping the umbrella on the ground, let a feral growling
noise escape from his throat and threw himself into the carriage.
He grasped her face in his wet hands and possessed her mouth with
an uncontrolled fervour. She tasted so good and her mouth was so
hot. Grasping handfuls of hair, he pushed her head back and plunged
his tongue into her wet heat, his knee pressing between her
legs.
    Then he slowly
registered her hands attempting to push against his chest and
sounds of protests murmured against his lips. He very reluctantly
pulled his lips from hers.
    “Rafe!” she
gasped. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
    “I am doing
what I have been thinking about doing all the way from London,” he
said, his voice coming out rough and desperate, his knees forcing
her legs further apart.
    She gave
another gasp and unsuccessfully tried to dislodge his legs from
between hers as his lips grazed over the sweet skin just below her
ear lobe.
    “Don’t you
dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare do this when I have had to witness
your mistress … groping you right in front of me!”
    But Rafe barely
heard what she said as his hands found her breasts, heaving under
her thick wool dress and tight corset.
    “I’ve had
enough of politeness and courtesy,” he growled as he thrust